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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475669">Dinner &amp; Diatribes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia'>mardia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>This Way Up (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my God,” Áine says, laughter rising up in her voice. “What <em>is</em> this?”</p><p>Richard glances up from the stove, but it’s too late--Áine is looking through a manuscript of the book that’s making through the second round of edits at Richard’s work, and with her unerring nose for the ridiculous, she’s opened it to one of the tabbed places with the...incredible awkward sex scene that Richard is doing his level best to rework into something less horrific.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aine/Richard (This Way Up)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dinner &amp; Diatribes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've loved this show for ages and I can't tell you how delighted I am that I finally managed to write a fic. Disclaimer that this is almost certainly not how the publishing industry works, I just felt like writing something ridiculous that made me laugh. Title's from the Hozier song of the same name. (The actual manuscript is based on a quote from <a href="https://twitter.com/AGeekwithaHat/status/1360364596146544640">Jeffrey Eugenides's The Marriage Plot</a>, because I could not make something that ridiculous up.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh my God,” Áine says, laughter rising up in her voice. “What <em>is</em> this?”</p><p>Richard glances up from the stove, but it’s too late--Áine is looking through a manuscript of the book that’s making through the second round of edits at Richard’s work, and with her unerring nose for the ridiculous, she’s opened it to one of the tabbed places with the...incredible awkward sex scene that Richard is doing his level best to rework into something less horrific. </p><p>And now Áine is looking at him, her blue eyes filled with an unholy glee as she holds up the manuscript and demands, “Is this man actually saying that women’s tits retract back into our chests? Like turtles?”</p><p>“Áine--”</p><p>“Tits as turtles, Richard!”</p><p>He doesn’t even want to defend it, but Richard somehow finds himself opening his mouth and saying, “It’s a reasonable mistake to--”</p><p>“Reasonable!” Áine echoes in disbelief, waving the manuscript over her head theatrically. “Oh, this sounds reasonable to you, does it?” And before Richard can stop her, she opens it back up again and says, in a deep and dramatically solemn voice, “<em>Evangeline quivered before him, her shoulders hunched in on herself, as her normally prominent breasts shrunk in on themselves, withdrawing back into her chest--”</em></p><p>As Richard grimaces, Áine makes a face of disgust and a noise like a strangled cat, before asking indignantly, “Is this what passes for basic anatomical knowledge these days?”</p><p>Conceding the point, Richard says, “I’m trying to get him to rework that part, I swear.”</p><p>Áine looks baffled. “And the reason he’s not already cringing away in a corner from overwhelming shame is…”</p><p>Richard makes another face. “Short-listed for the Man Booker five years ago,” he explains. “Now the man thinks he’s God’s gift to the literary world.”</p><p>“A gag gift, maybe,” Áine says. She scowls and starts to flip through the manuscript, asking, “So what other insults to women are in this thing?”</p><p>Too many. “We have a whole night to ourselves,” Richard says, leaning a hip against the countertop, “And this is how you want to spend it? Editing a manuscript?”</p><p>Áine considered it for a moment, before a satisfied smirk appears on her face, and she asks him, “And what makes you think I can’t multitask?”</p><p>“Multitask--” is all that Richard gets out, before he’s helplessly chuckling, the absurdity of Áine marking up the manuscript with one hand and a cliched red pen as they’re in bed together hitting him in one go. </p><p>Áine’s walking towards him now, a pleased smile on her face--she’s still so proud of herself when she makes him laugh. Before Richard can compose himself again, she’s standing in front of him, wrapping her arms low around his waist and saying, thoughtfully, “Though I bet you could keep me occupied, you know. If you put some effort into it.”</p><p>“Effort, you say,” Richard says lowly. From this close, she’s the only thing he can focus on, the smell of her shampoo and the warmth of her body, how soft and inviting her mouth looks. “I think that can be managed.”</p><p>Áine grins and looks ready to say something else, but Richard kisses her before she can speak, and just like that, neither one of them are thinking about the manuscript anymore. </p><p>*</p><p>It probably would’ve ended there, except that three weeks later Richard has a work event, and he brings Áine with him. It’s quite nice at first, Áine’s hair swept up in some complicated up-do and she’s wearing a sparkling black dress that has Richard sneaking glances at her all throughout the cab ride there. </p><p>Of course, everything goes pear-shaped when Richard discovers they’re sitting at the same table with Andrew Thistlewood for the night. </p><p>“Fuck,” Richard says before he can think twice, and Nadia from Legal gives him a sympathetic look. </p><p>“Yeah, sorry about that, but he’s one of your authors and frankly, no one else is willing to do it, so.”</p><p>“Oh God,” Richard says, glancing at the table and growing more aghast. “Did you put Liz Williams there as well?”</p><p>“She’s another one of your authors!” Nadia says defensively. </p><p>“Well, this night’s shot,” Richard says fatalistically. </p><p>Áine’s craning her head through the crowd and asks, curiously, “So what’s wrong with these authors, then? Do they smell like cheese?”</p><p>“Ahhh,” Richard says, but there’s no hope for it, he’d brought her here instead of staying in for a pleasant evening or doing literally anything else, including bungee jumping or skydiving or...whatever, anything that’ll be better than listening to Andrew Thistlewood and Liz Williams snipe at each other all night. “Well, Liz is one of our romance authors, very successful, and Andrew’s...remember that manuscript you read at my place? The one with--”</p><p>“Oh my God, he’s the tits-as-turtles man! Retractable breasts man!” Áine gasps, eyes huge. “Fuck, is that really him? </p><p>“We can sit somewhere else,” Richard says, but without hope. </p><p>“You really can’t,” Nadia says. </p><p>“Oh, it’ll be grand,” Áine says stoutly, and when Richard stares at her, she shrugs and says, “Well, it’ll be funny for me at least, and obviously my amusement is what counts.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, of course,” Richard groans, but lets her tug him by the arm to their seats.</p><p>To give her credit, Áine does try and be polite, complimenting Liz on her blouse and Andrew on his tie, keeping a smile on her face as Andrew fishes to see if she’s read any of his books. </p><p>“Ah, you know, I don’t get the chance to read as much as I like,” Áine says, “But erm, I saw some of your latest manuscript when I was over at Richard’s, and it was very--compelling.”</p><p>Andrew perks up at this, the knobhead, and asks, “Oh did you, did you, that’s very nice to hear. You know, that doesn’t surprise me, as the lead character is a woman, and I take such pride in writing strong female characters.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Áine says, but her attempt at a poker face, God bless her, is rather ruined when Liz Williams snorts and says, not nearly sotto voce enough, “Strong female characters? <em>You?</em>”</p><p>“Jesus,” Richard mutters softly, but here it is, as Andrew snips back, “Well, Elizabeth, not all of us can write about single mothers shagging their gardeners for 250 pages, rinse and repeat, for our entire careers--”</p><p>“That’s better than whatever manic pixie dream girl bullshit you’ve shat out,” Liz says, and she’s definitely more than a couple of drinks in, as she turns to poor Áine and asks her, “Now, you look like a moderately intelligent person--”</p><p>“Thank you,” Áine says, dead-pan, her eyes sparkling with amusement. </p><p>“So I can’t believe you actually enjoyed his treatment of women in whatever manuscript you read. Go on, tell us what you really thought of it.”</p><p>Áine freezes as she tries to come up with something to say, and Richard tries to change the subject, offering, “You know, maybe now isn’t the time--”</p><p>“No, no,” Andrew insists, waving his glass of whiskey in the air. “I’d love to hear her thoughts.”</p><p>Oh, hell. Áine shoots Richard a panicked look, but ventures, “Well, you know, um, there was one thing I wanted to ask you about. Um. The...the anatomy of the female character--” Áine’s gesturing with her hands in the general region of her breasts, and finishes desperately with, “You described them as, em, retracting? And I was just wondering a bit about that.”</p><p>“Áine--” Richard starts, warning her, and she protests, “I was, though!”</p><p>“Wait, what was retracting?” Liz asks curiously. “Does she have a prosthetic limb, or something?”</p><p>Andrew looks indignant, wagging a finger in Richard’s direction as he says, “Oh, I see, this is <em>your</em> doing, Richard--”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Richard and Áine ask in unison. </p><p>“It is a perfectly reasonable descriptive passage!” Andrew barrels on. “Everyone knows that a woman’s breasts can withdraw within themselves during moments of great emotional torment!”</p><p>“The fuck we do,” Áine says. “As someone who has had tits since I was fourteen, I can promise you, they have<em> never</em> retracted in and out like, like a telescope, or a turtle’s head--”</p><p>“No, no, you’re wrong,” Andrew protests, and Richard has to say, baffled, “Are you actually trying to argue with a woman over this?”</p><p>“Ohh, ohh,” Liz chortles, her face lit up with a glee that is positively unholy. “Andrew, you’ve finally gone round the bend. You think a woman’s tits can do <em>what?</em>”</p><p>“Can we please stop saying tits,” Richard says, without any hope. Thank fuck his boss is towards the front of the room, and hopefully out of earshot of...whatever the fuck this is.</p><p>“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Áine says, because she has not yet realized the utter futility of trying to talk sense to someone like Andrew, “But that is physically impossible. The tits--sorry, Richard--the breasts just don’t work like that! They don’t bob back and forth, like, like--like moles coming out of a hole!”</p><p>Richard can see people’s heads turning in their direction, and sighs as he reaches for his own glass of champagne, knocking it back in one go. </p><p>“It’s a metaphor!” Andrew says, face red. </p><p>“It’s you gunning for another Bad Sex in Literature award,” Liz says, very smugly. She scoots her chair closer to Áine and says, “Now dear, tell me everything about this scene. The more ghastly details, the better.”</p><p>As Andrew splutters, Richard settles back in his seat and says quietly to him, because sometimes even he can’t resist, “Now do you see why I told you to cut that scene out?”</p><p>Of course, that just spurs Andrew on to furiously defend his art and his inventive ways, with Liz gleefully cutting him down to size, and right in the middle of their ferocious argument about narrative and how many ways you can describe the female orgasm, Áine turns to Richard and says, earnestly, “God, Richard, I swear to you, I really did not try to have this happen.”</p><p>Her voice is trembling a little bit with laughter (and who could blame her, this is categorically <em>ridiculous</em>) but she’s so obviously sincere that Richard has no other option but to kiss her lightly on the mouth and say, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you wrote the sentence about magically shrinking tits.”</p><p>As Áine bursts out laughing, Richard grins back at her, and decides that if they’re going to be part of the spectacle for tonight, at least he can kiss his girlfriend while it’s happening. </p><p>*</p><p>He does regret it a little bit when the events go viral on someone’s Twitter feed, and Étienne comes down to breakfast the morning after, mobile phone in hand, asking dubiously if this is really his workplace and just what does “retractable tits” mean?</p><p>Under the circumstances, Richard has no qualms about saying, “You should ask Áine,” and burying himself in his coffee mug as Áine gives him a glare across the kitchen table.</p><p>A few moments later, he’s distracted by the buzzing of his mobile, and glances at the screen to find a new text from Nate, his coworker, that reads: <em>On the negative side, we’re trending on Twitter and the Guardian’s already got an article up. On the plus side, however, your new girlfriend is fantastic. Drinks Friday? Bring her with, the wife’s dying to meet her. </em></p><p>Richard asks, “Hey, are you free Friday?”</p><p>“What?” Áine asks, and when he shows her the text, she narrows her eyes at him and says, dramatically, “Just so long as they aren’t any authors around, I have had my limit!”</p><p>“I think that can be managed,” Richard says dryly, and Áine’s answering smile is radiant.</p>
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